


"Can I help you, Potter?"

by TheRedJay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Quidditch, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedJay/pseuds/TheRedJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trio are invited back to Hogwarts to finish the education they missed out in the their seventh year (original concept - I know). However, McGonagall requests that they stay in the Slytherin dorms due to a bullying incident. Oh my god they have to share a dorm with Draco, who coulda guessed it. Anyhoo, I'm a sucker for Drarry, so the plot's pretty easy to guess. Hope you enjoy, leave a review etc, etc...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I'm surprised you actually decided to read this after that god-awful summary... Well, I'm glad.  
> This is my first HP fanfic and, therefore, also my first Drarry. I haven't seen/read Harry Potter in AGES and/or done too much research so I apologise if anything's not accurate about the wizarding world - at least I tried, right?  
> Please review and enjoy reading!  
> Thanks a bunch,  
> Jay xx

"So do you think you’ll go back with Ron and me?" Hermione asked, leaning forward for Harry’s answer. Harry looked at her, blinking blankly - he hadn’t been listening. "You weren’t listening, were you?" Hermione, picking up on Harry’s confusion, didn’t sound impressed. In reply, Harry shook his head. Hermione sighed deeply, sliding a letter across the table. Harry picked it up and read it.

From what he understood, Professor McGonagall was offering for the three to return to Hogwarts to complete their education which they’d missed out on the last year. She’d said that many others would be returning as 'eighth years' due to the poor education that they received last year.

Harry had read in the Daily Prophet that Hogwarts had been more or less successfully rebuilt over the summer 'with the help of the Ministry' (which probably meant some officials patted the professors on the back, posed for a few photographs, then went on their way). Harry went to read the next page, only to find it was the same letter, but addressed to Ron, and the next to himself. He thought that a little silly seeing as McGonagall knew the three were staying at the Burrow over the summer.

"Yeah, I’ll go." Harry answered. He’d concluded he had nothing better to do for the next year - so going to Hogwarts would probably be a good idea. Besides, if Hermione and Ron were going, he’d want to go as well.

"He’s coming too, Ron!" Hermione called into the other room.

"Brilliant!" Ron grinned around the door, before going back to whatever he was doing in the living room.

"We’ve told Ginny, but she doesn’t want to go back - even if she has a year to go." Hermione stated, turning back to Harry. She sounded as if she disapproved, which would be expected from _the_ Hermione Granger. The situation between Ginny and Harry was a little awkward. They were friends, but not _friends_ friends, 'we-used-to-date' friends.

"Of course not. She got an offer from the Harpies, didn’t she?" Harry smiled. Hermione nodded. If it were Harry, he’d take professional Quidditch over another year at Hogwarts. Hogwarts had been the best years of his life so far, and finishing his education would help with his career - but playing _Quidditch_ for a living kind of won hands down.

"I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to going back." Hermione smiled, leaning back in her chair.

Harry thought about it, he could probably draw up the effort to look forward to it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin.  
> I apologise in advance for irregular updates on chapters, but if you're enjoying it so far: stick around!  
> Thank you for reading, hope to see y'all on the next chapter ;)  
> ~ Jay xx


	2. The Slytherin Dorms

Harry gave a small nod to Dumbledore’s painting as he entered the headmasters office, the painting nodded back. He then followed Hermione and Ron up the steps to the desk in the centre of the room. McGonagall looked at them fondly.

"We got your owl, Professor, you wanted to see us?" Hermione questioned. McGonagall nodded, gesturing for them to take a seat.

"I wish to ask you three if you’d mind staying in the Slytherin dormitories for this year?" McGonagall asked. The three looked at each other in surprise.

"What?" Ron questioned abruptly and rather unintelligently.

"Well, you see, plenty of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws returned, however, not as many Slytherins came back this year. Therefore we have a lot of free space in the dungeons, so we thought to spread out the numbers." McGonagall explained. Harry guessed that they hadn’t returned either because they were ashamed of their or their parents role in the Battle of Hogwarts. In the Great Hall, he’d noticed how deserted the Slytherin table had been. He hadn’t looked at it too long, but long enough to see it’d at least lost half of it’s students. It was rather sad really, having the other houses celebrating the new year, and the few Slytherins giving a few half-hearted, lonely cheers. Less first years had gone into the house also, because McGonagall had introduced a higher influence on the sorting hat, so that it simply recommended a house while the student chose. After the battle, Slytherin wasn’t really everyone’s favourite. Which wasn’t really fair, seeing as it wasn’t all of the Slytherins who were involved in the Death Eaters - although it was a fair majority who were.

"I have a feeling there’s a further reason…" Hermione stated. McGonagall nodded.

"I’m worried about Mr Malfoy." She started.

"I think we all are, Professor. Sometimes I think, one day, he’ll be so much of a git, that his being won’t be able to handle it, and he’ll explode with git-ness." Ron interrupted with smirk. Harry couldn’t help but smile a little at his friends comment. McGonagall, however, gave him an unimpressed glare.

"Very amusing, Mr Weasley." McGonagall said in the least-amused sounding voice. "Mr Malfoy hasn’t been back at school longer than a couple of hours, and already some students have created the game that they call 'Dark Lord touch'." She continued.

"Dark Lord touch? What on Earth is that?" Hermione asked. Harry, having had attended a muggle school before, could easily guess what the game vaguely involved.

"If a student makes any contact with Draco, they are considered 'infected' with the 'Dark Lord touch'. Apparently they have to pass it on by the time the sun sets, or their nose will fall off." McGonagall replied. Ron and Harry snorted with laughter. This, of course, merited another glare from McGonagall.

"I’m sorry Professor, but the… the nose falling off…" Harry apologised, trying, and failing, to suppress his laughter.

"Yes, we have some… rather _creative_ students here at Hogwarts, wouldn't you say?" She let a small smile slip as she spoke. "Nonetheless, we don’t tolerate bullying, under any circumstance. So, seeing as every other student refuses, I thought you three could share a dormitory with him." McGonagall concluded. Once more, the three looked at each other.

"There isn’t a single student who wouldn’t mind sharing a dormitory with him?" Hermione asked in disbelief. Harry was sure that wasn’t the question on Ron’s mind, because it sure wasn’t the question on his. His questions went along the lines of 'Why doesn’t he go home then?' or 'Why can’t _anyone_ else do it?'. Harry didn’t like bragging over the Battle of Hogwarts, but it was them who killed Voldemort, so they should at least be able to choose where they sleep…

"I’m afraid not. The students who I understand were his friends, either didn’t make it out of the battle, didn’t return this year, or haven’t forgiven him for the role he did play in the battle." McGonagall answered with a very solemn tone. Harry couldn’t hold it back any longer.

"Then why the hell did he come back?" He questioned. Hermione nudged him in disapproval, but he ignored it.

"Because, Mr Potter, like you, and many others, he wishes to complete his education. And I don’t see any reason why he should be denied that right, do you?" McGonagall asked curtly in return.

"No, professor." Harry mumbled, backing down. She was right, even in the muggle world, every child had a right to an education - though at nineteen there weren’t quite children. McGonagall cleared her throat before she continued.

"It’d be very much appreciated if you three could extend a hand of friendship to him, as no one else seems to want to. I wouldn’t want him to go through the year alone, especially after how much he assisted with the rebuild of the school." McGonagall suggested hopefully. As a response, Ron let out a low groan of displease.

"Why do we have to buddy up with Malfoy?" He questioned, a scowl on his face.

"Well, Mr Weasley, I figured since you three were able to kill Voldemort, one of the most powerful dark wizards the world has ever seen, you’d be able to befriend a lonely, misunderstood young man, who wants nothing more than to just complete his education like every other child." McGonagall replied almost sarcastically. Ron seemed to consider retaliating, but thought better of it, and instead just sucked on his upper lip in thought. McGonagall had a very good point, which kind of put down Harry’s on them being able to choose where they slept due to their victory.

 

* * *

 

So the three did as Professor McGonagall said and took their trunks down to the dungeons where the Slytherin dorms were located. Looking around, Harry decided it had remained as it was when he and Ron visited in their second year. However, there were some parts which appeared they’d been recently replaced, presumably because they’d been damaged in battle.

The dungeons certainly weren’t the most attractive part of the castle. They were colder and darker, with less furniture, paintings and tapestries, just plain stone everywhere.

Hermione approached the wall that led to the Slytherin common room.

"Severus." She said to the stone. As McGonagall said it would upon saying the password, it opened for them to enter.

The Slytherin common room hadn't changed too much either. It had the same dark wood furniture and greenish lighting. It was more grand looking than the Gryffindor common room, though the Gryffindor common room was more homely. Still, Harry decided he'd be able to get used to the Slytherin interior decor.

"Potter, Granger and Weasley. Professor McGonagall told me I'd be blessed with your company this year." A voice acknowledged. Harry then noticed the golden snitch that was being thrown in the air then caught from the couch facing away from the entrance. The voice told that the person throwing and catching the snitch was Draco Malfoy.

"And she told us we'd be burdened with yours." Ron muttered in reply, venturing further into the common room.

"Don't lie, Weasley, I know that you're absolutely shitting yourself to share a dorm with me." Draco grinned, sitting up a little to look at Harry's red-headed friend. He looked a lot better than he had at the battle. His grey eyes looked brighter, more alive. He'd grown his white blond hair a little longer too.

"Trust me, I'm not." Ron replied.

"You look well, Draco." Hermione smiled, following Ron and going down the steps into the main part of the room.

"As do you, Granger." Draco nodded to her politely, a small smile on his face. Harry was having a little trouble actually believing that the man in front of him was Draco Malfoy. Perhaps McGonagall had told him to be nice to the three? That, or Draco had, as Hermione had told them he would have, actually changed.

"Never thought I'd see you compliment a 'mudblood', Malfoy." Ron commented snidely. To which, Draco's smile faded. He looked down, before rolling back onto his back, continuing to throw the snitch in the air. Hermione shot Ron a glare, and he shrugged innocently in reply. Harry approached the sofa that Draco was lying on. Noticing his presence, Draco's eyes fell to the side, locking with Harry's. There was a small moment where nothing happened, just the two boys looking at each other in silence.

"Can I help you, Potter?" Draco asked, not averting his eyes.

"I was just wondering if you planned to lie here all day." Harry answered, leaning on the back of the couch.

"Well, classes for eighth years don't start until tomorrow." Draco shrugged. McGonagall had told the three the same thing.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." Harry smirked. Sitting up properly, Draco turned so that he could face all three of them.

"Unless you three are up for a game of find the snitch." He offered with a hopeful smile.

"Find the snitch? Whassat?" Ron questioned, furrowing his brow. Personally, Harry thought the game revealed itself pretty well in the title. Find the snitch, probably, involved finding a snitch that had been released outside. It didn't take a genius to figure that one out, really.

"Well, the Quidditch field wasn't really a priority in the rebuild, so won't be open for a month at least. However, I'm sure we could use the field anyway... Basically, you release the snitch, close your eyes and count to ten. Then, first to find it - wins." Draco explained. Simple enough, Harry thought. Though he had pretty much predicted the rules already...

"That sounds fun." Hermione smiled. "We'll play a game after we've finished unpacking." She stated. Ron went to argue, but a hit to the stomach from Hermione silenced him. Although Harry didn't mind the idea of playing, he still would've liked to have been consulted.

"Speaking on unpacking, where're the dorms?" Harry asked Draco.

"Boys on the right, girls on the left." He motioned to two passageways leading off either side of the common room.

"Actually, Draco, I was told I'd be staying in the same dorm as you three. Seeing as their are more girls than boys in Slytherin this year." Hermione corrected. "Although, if you have a problem, I'd be more than happy to talk to Professor McGonagall to see if there's room elsewhere for me." She offered.

"I have no problem with you staying in the same dorm. After all, it's just for sleeping. Though I must ask that you refrain from screwing Weasley whilst I'm in the room." Draco replied, saying the last part with a teasing smirk.

"Pardon?" Ron squeaked in surprise.

"You heard me, keep it in your pants, or there'll be consequences. And I'm sure Potter agrees with me." Draco explained, before turning to Harry with a smile and one brow raised. Ron looked absolutely gobsmacked.

"Sorry, Ron, but I'm with Malfoy on that one." Harry grinned, chuckling at his friends expression. Hermione looked more humorously surprised, both shocked by Draco's statement and amused by Ron's reaction.

"What makes you think I'd do that with you two in the room?!" He asked angrily. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't know what you two are into." Draco shrugged innocently. "Anyway, weren't you three going to unpack? I'm bored, so you'd better get to it. Our dorms furthest away, at the end." He instructed in a huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first proper chapter! Yay!!  
> As always, please leave kudos, reviews etc, etc... I'd appreciate you guys telling me what you think so far.  
> Anyway, I have another chapter in the works already, so I'm really on a roll with this one. Point being: Stay tuned for there is more to come!  
> Thank you for reading,  
> Jay xx


	3. A Muggle School Playground

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed from the ensuite bathroom. Harry and Hermione simultaneously raised their heads at the noise. They looked at each other, before leaving their trunks to see what the commotion was about.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked, climbing the single step to the bathroom and going through the open door.

"Look at all this!" He ordered, pointing at the ridiculous amount of bottles and jars on the counter surrounding the sink. There really was quite the array. All different shapes, sizes and colours of products. Harry didn't recognise any of it, which made him think it was wizard exclusive stuff - which he didn't own any of, since he thought muggle products worked fine.

"Is this all Draco's?" Hermione questioned, picking up one of the bottles and inspecting the label.

"Of course it is!" Ron answered as if it were obvious. Harry did wonder who's else it could be, meriting Hermione's question a little pointless.

"Just this is girls cover-up." Hermione displayed the bottle she was holding to the two boys. The brand name Harry actually did recognise as muggle, he'd seen it in a shop window in Surrey.

"And muggle at that." Harry commented. They heard the door to the dorm open, and looking out, they saw Draco had decided to grace them with his presence.

"Hey Malfoy, what's all this?" Ron called, still looking over Draco's collection.

"What's all what?" Draco asked, leaning into the bathroom.

"This!" Ron made a display of the counter, using both arms for the extra dramatising. Draco glanced at the sink.

"It called self-grooming, Weasley. I highly recommend it." He replied, before returning back to the other room. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, both trying not to laugh at their friend. The three went back to the dorm room.

Draco was lying on his bed, legs crossed, reading the Daily Prophet.

"Why do you have muggle ladies makeup?" Hermione asked, making a small motion to the bathroom.

"Because most wizards and witches use spells to get rid of blemishes and such, so there isn't such thing as wizard cover-up." Draco answered simply, turning the page of the newspaper.

"What, are you against using magic to get rid of 'em?" Ron questioned, his expression reading his confusion. He went to his trunk to continue unpacking.

"I don't put it on my face, you thick-skulled buffoon. And nor do I need to, I'm nineteen, not twelve." Draco snapped, rolling his eyes, and turning the page once more. Harry begun to suspect that he wasn't even reading it, just holding it for effect.

"Well, where else would you need to put it?" Hermione asked, sitting on her bed.

"I thought you were the smart one of the trio, Granger." Draco glanced at her. He then put down the Daily Prophet, sitting up and turning to sit facing the centre of the room. He rolled up his sleeves and displayed both forearms. Both were just smooth, pale skin.

"Oh you cover your... Er... Right..." Hermione mumbled, looking down in awkwardness. Harry realised that it was his dark mark that he covered. He'd completely forgotten that Draco had had one, and for a moment, was completely lost as to why Draco was showing his arms.

"Yeah, having the sign of the Dark Lord on your arm doesn't exactly help you make friends." Draco muttered, going back to reading his newspaper.

"Maybe one day it won't mean anything, the sign, I mean." Ron suggested, looking up from his trunk for a moment.

"I doubt that, Ron. Even in the muggle world, the sign of Hitler's still seen as offensive, and that was over fifty years ago." Hermione stated, looking quite solemn. Harry gave a nod of agreement. He didn't think the dark mark would ever lose its meaning.

"Fun fact with Draco - Hermann Göring, Hitlers right hand man, was actually a wizard who not only prosecuted those whom Hitler instructed, but also muggle-borns and squibs." Draco stated, rather randomly.

"Vey interesting." Hermione dismissed in a mutter. Harry presumed that meant Hermione hadn't known that, but still wasn't particularly interested.

"I know I am." Draco smirked, before stretching across his bed. Harry couldn't resist looking at where Draco's plain black shirt had ridden up, revealing the top of his hip and a small part of his stomach.

To differentiate the eighth years, McGonagall had said that they needn't wear uniform. While Harry, Hermione and Ron had gone for t-shirts, jeans and trainers, Draco had gone for a shirt, smart trousers and expensive looking leather shoes, all black of course.

"Well, I've finished unpacking. So how about that game of find the snitch?" Harry asked, standing up. Draco also stood up, non-verbally summoning his broom from under his bed. He'd gotten yet another new model.

"Alright then." He grinned. The other three stood up also. Harry grabbed his broom which was propped up against his bed frame, before following Draco out of the dorm.

 

* * *

 

Since Hermione didn't have a broom, she decided they’d play the game in twos, then the winner would play the winner and the loser play the loser. Draco had agreed that it was a good idea, so Harry and Ron had simply gone with it.

"Have you got _another_ broom, Malfoy?" Ron questioned in disbelief. The four of them were making their way through the burnt wood to the pitch. Harry was surprised it’d taken Ron that long to notice.

"Yes." Draco replied simply, balancing on a fallen beam.

"Why?" Ron asked. His voice implied he really didn’t see the point of it.

"I’m filthy rich, so I can do whatever the hell I want. Not that you’d know how that feels, Weasley." Draco smirked wickedly. He then gracefully jumped to another, more elevated, beam.

"I doubt there are many people at this school know what that feels like." Hermione intervened, blocking Ron’s retort which had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Of course not, unless one of you lucky nerds marry me. Then they get a whole half of the Malfoy estate." Draco replied with a small shrug.

"Is that a plan for a particular someone, then?" Harry asked, curious as to whether Draco had his eye on anyone. McGonagall had said he wasn’t on good terms with any of his friends, which Harry presumed included Pansy, Draco’s rumoured girlfriend since fourth year.

"Why? You interested, Potter?" Draco glanced down at him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Harry felt himself burn crimson. The other two laughed, while Harry continued to watch Draco as he turned his attention back to where he was walking, and jumped to yet another beam.

"Do you actually fancy someone, Draco?" Hermione asked, recovering from her laughter. There was a moment’s silence whilst Draco seemed to think about it.

"I might." He finally answered. The trio’s ears perked up at the information of Draco Malfoy having a crush.

"Care to share?" Ron questioned.

"No. I’m not having you three blab who I fancy to the whole of Hogwarts." Draco muttered, stepping over a large piece of wood in the way of his path. "And besides, why are we using the word 'fancy'? This isn’t a muggle school playground." He added with a scoff, leaping down from the beam. The four had reached the field, and were headed for the centre.

"What would you know about a muggle school playground?" Harry asked. Though Draco did have a point, they did sound like primary school children, asking him 'who he fancied'.

"More than you’d expect. I didn’t live too far away from one. A muggle school, I mean. In fact, when I was really young, I had a muggle friend. Until my father found out… Jessica, I think her name was." Draco sounded as if he was mumbling to himself toward the end of his ramblings. By the looks on their faces, Harry guessed his friends were as surprised as he was. It seemed very strange that the same guy who claimed to hate all muggles (and muggle-borns) used to have muggle friend himself.

"Who wants to play first?" Draco asked, stopping in the centre of the pitch, hand on hip.

"Seeing as you thought of the game, I think it's only fair you start." Hermione stated. Draco shrugged, showing he didn't mind starting off the game. He then turned to Harry, a smile on his lips.

"Care to join me, Potter?" He offered, tilting his head a little.

"Don't tell me you still think you stand a chance against me in Quidditch?" Harry grinned. Taking a few steps forward, Draco looked down at Harry. They were weirdly close, their chests centimetres from touching. Harry hadn't a clue why Draco would randomly invade his space like that, when he could easily square up to him from a little further back.

"And if I do?" Draco questioned with a smirk. Harry could've sworn that at some point he'd been the taller one, but somehow Draco had become a good four inches taller than him.

"Then you're going to be very disappointed." Harry replied. His brain was struggling to function with Draco so close, let alone return snarky comments. All that Harry could think about was how Draco smelt so bloody good.

"We'll see about that, Potter." Draco broke into a grin. He then moved to go around Harry and mount his broom.

"Hermione, we can sit over here." Ron decided, heading toward a more stable looking remainder of foundation. Hermione nodded in agreement, before approaching Harry.

"Just so you know, you've gone bright red." She muttered quietly. She then went to sit with Ron.

"No I haven't." Harry stubbornly called after her, rubbing his cheeks in the hope it'd help in them returning to their usual colour. He then turned to face Draco, who was smirking down at him from about eight feet in the air.

"Come on, Potter, I don’t have all day." He muttered with fake exasperation. Even though Draco had literally said that he _did_ have all day back in the common room… With an eye roll, Harry got on his broom.


	4. Can't take a compliment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Image links in end notes ~

Harry jumped down from his broom, grinning at Draco. An awful scowl on his face and his arms tightly folded, it was the first time that day that Harry had seen the prior-war Draco. To be honest, it was sort of relief, knowing that Draco’s ridiculous amount of pride hadn’t been entirely lost in the battle. 

"Come on, Malfoy, don’t be a sore-loser." Harry chuckled, approaching the blond. 

"I’ll be a sore-loser if I want to be, Potter." Draco muttered in return.  
The wind had completely attacked Draco’s hair, diminishing any hold that his many products had. His white blond hair had fallen onto his face, taking away his usual neat look. It made Harry consider throwing all of Draco’s hair products away, for aesthetic reasons.  
He clearly realised the state of his hair, for he began to comb it aside with his fingers. Though it didn’t achieve much, just made it a little less wind-swept. 

"I play Hermione now, right?" Ron asked, getting up from the beam he was sat on. Harry nodded in reply. He turned to give his broom to Hermione, but Draco had beaten him to it, and was stood holding his broom out for her to take. 

"Thank you, Draco." She smiled, accepting it and walking to the centre of the field. Harry noticed Ron looking at Draco with a look of concern. He decided to let it go, and sat where his friends were previously seated. The beam sunk a little under his weight, and it sunk a little further when Draco sat beside him. 

There were a few minutes of silence between the two. Harry was watching Draco, as his grey eyes darted over the sky, watching Hermione and Ron’s attempts in catching the snitch. Occasionally, the September wind would catch his hair, simply adjusting where the strands hung. Apart from his eyes and hair, Draco was entirely still; his posture perfectly straight and his legs perfectly crossed.  
Harry found himself looking at Draco’s lips, they were slightly parted and looked incredibly soft. 

"Alright there, Potter?" Draco asked, turning to look at Harry. The look on his face implied he was aware that Harry had been staring at him. Composing himself, Harry cleared his throat. 

"Just, er, you look different from the war." Harry replied. His mind went back to the Draco from the war, the one with sadness in his eyes which had dark circles beneath them, the one with the paler, more hollow cheeks, the one with a stressed, lost aura about him. 

"Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush." Draco muttered, his voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. He turned back to the game, just as Hermione and Ron simultaneously rushed for the snitch, just for it to fly beneath them and out of their sight.  
It seemed Hermione was struggling a little with the power of Draco’s broom, having only practised on the old Hogwarts models. Still, she was doing okay. 

"I mean it, you look a lot better." Harry smiled. Draco turned to him, his nose scrunched, brow furrowed and lip curled through a smirk. 

"Eww, Potter’s being nice to me." He teasingly whined. 

"Eww, Draco can't take a compliment." Harry mimicked with the same voice and facial expression. Though he instantly realised that he'd called him by his first name and waited nervously for Draco's reaction.  
However, Draco simply laughed at Harry's impression. 

"Let’s just say I’m not used to them coming from you." He replied with a small smile. Harry shrugged. He didn’t really know if it made sense in the conversation, but he couldn’t really think of much else he could say. It wasn’t as if Draco would expect Harry to pay him compliments as his worst enemy. 

Once more, they were in silence. Both watching Hermione and Ron.  
There were so many things Harry felt like he could, or probably should, say to Draco. Yet, the sensation that he couldn't really approach Draco in that way lingered. He felt as if he should apologise; for denying his friendship, for retaliating with aggression for the past years, for not apologising sooner.  
Still, Draco probably owed more of an apology, since he was incriminated with more foul-play in their rivalry than Harry was. 

Draco had been a downright prick over the years, there was no denying that. However, when it'd come to the final battle, Draco had stood with the Hogwarts students against the Death Eaters until the moment his father had called him.  
Draco was defined by his name and his family, just like Harry had been defined by his scar. They both fought people they didn't want to fight, lost people they didn't want to lose and seen things they certainly didn't want to see. 

"You're staring at me again." Draco muttered flatly, bringing Harry to the present moment. He was surprised, since he hadn't been aware he’d been staring.  
Draco’s silver eyes met Harry’s emerald ones. There was so many emotions in the pale grey, yet, Harry couldn’t translate a single one.  
It’d always been that way with Draco, unless he had a single thing on his mind, you couldn’t tell what he was feeling. For example, when he had been focused on the Death Eaters and sneaking them into Hogwarts, he was stressed, upset, panicked, but there, looking into Harry’s eyes, there seemed no way of telling what was going on his head. 

There seemed to be a small force of gravity between them, because somehow they’d managed to end up leaning toward one another, with only a few inches between them. It’d taken a while for Harry to notice, in fact, he’d only realise how close they were when Draco’s eyes dropped down to Harry’s lips, before immediately blinking back up to his eyes. 

Harry bit his lower lip, aware that they were about to kiss. The blood rushed to his cheeks as they became close enough for him to feel Draco’s warm breath. He reached up to touch the back of Draco’s smooth pale neck, and pull Draco the last part of the distance. 

Suddenly, Draco stood up, breaking the moment. 

"Tell Weasley and Granger I don’t mind coming last place." He muttered, facing away from Harry. "I’m going back to the dorms." With that, he took a step toward Hogwarts. In frantic, Harry grabbed the sleeve of Draco’s midnight black shirt, though he immediately moved his grasp onto Draco’s slim wrist. 

"You can’t go! This was your idea!" Harry exclaimed, standing up. He waited a moment. 

"Pass it on before sunset." Draco glanced at Harry, smiling, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Reaching forward, he gently removed Harrys hand from his wrist, before crossing the pitch.  
Harry called after him, but he was simply ignored.

Harry had no idea why it bothered him so much. Not getting a kiss from the guy he’d hated so much for seven years, an ex-Death Eater at that. He tried reminding himself that the man he was chasing after was _Draco Malfoy_ , but his body didn’t listen, he kept going after the blond.  
Deciding to suss out what the hell he was doing, Harry laid out what reasons he could think of in his head. For one, Draco was extremely attractive, but Harry had figured that out in at least third year. Though at the time, his surly behaviour toward Harry had made him want to tie him to the heaviest iron cauldron he could find and throw him into the lake. Still, Harry had been willing to admit to himself that his tall, graceful, slender figure, shining white blond hair and gleaming silver grey eyes did have some appeal to them.  
Then, perhaps since Draco had decided to be pleasant toward him, Harry had subconsciously decided he was the perfect person to snog on the Quidditch pitch.  
Harry knew he was being ridiculous.

Be that as it may, Harry had caught up with Draco.

They’d made it out of the wooden wreckage and were headed down the hill.

"Draco!" Harry called again, grabbing his shoulder and turning Draco to face him. 

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco snapped, his pre-war self displayed once more. 

"What do you mean 'what do I want'?" Harry questioned. He was immediately irritated at how Draco thought he could just pretend what’d just happened hadn’t happened.  
Draco sighed, his expression softening.

"You have to leave me be." He stated, looking directly at Harry. His eyes were clear, revealing loneliness and hurt. "I tried to be your friend, alright? I did. I tried. But… I can’t…" He finished, looking down. Harry furrowed his brow, confused to what Draco was going on about. He made a guess that perhaps he was struggling getting over their past rivalry, but he thought thought better of it, remembering how open Draco had been with the three back in the dorm. "Please, just leave me alone." He said quietly. His eyes begging.

Draco walked away.  
Leaving Harry alone, in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry I took so long to update, I've had a lot to do and it took a while for me to be happy with this chapter. But, hey, here we are!
> 
> The stories pacing up, and I apologise if it's going a little fast, just personally I dislike long-arse scenes that just show time movement, so I tend to get to it. Do say if it's just ridiculous and I need to slow the hell down :)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next chapter!
> 
> ~ Jay xx
> 
> P.S In case you wanna see what Draco's hair was doing:
> 
> Before combing aside - https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b7/ab/89/b7ab89c79c1eb78db1ea50a4b6d30006.jpg  
> After combing aside - https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/57/83/8f/57838f8ceb682a0b026643ce30f07b83.jpg
> 
> If I say Draco's hair doesn't have product, presume the second is going down. Thanks ;)


	5. Black Eye, Bruised Lip and a Broken Arm

"Harry? What happened? Where’s Draco?" Hermione asked, coming from behind. Realising he probably looked like a total nob just stood on the hill, Harry turned to his friends. He went up a little to meet them, all the while, wondering how to explain what’d happened without having to tell them he’d tried to kiss Draco Malfoy. 

"Well, funny story: Draco wants us to leave him alone." Harry simplified. He was still working on the details, so decided he’d start with the main message of the story. 

"What?!" Hermione and Ron asked unison. 

"Harry, what did you do?" Hermione asked separately. 

"Nothing." Harry immediately replied, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Well done, that was really believable, Harry thought sarcastically to himself. 

Still, he didn’t think he could be held responsible. Draco went off on his own accord. He leant in as well, so the near-kiss probably wasn’t the issue. Apparently it went deeper, so deep that Draco had decided he couldn’t even continue to 'try be Harry’s friend'. 

"Obviously you did something, mate." Ron stated obviously, making a gesture to wherever Draco had disappeared to. 

"Come on Harry, it’s been less than three hours and you’ve already scared him off." Hermione folded her arms. In response, Harry angrily pushed up his glasses, scowling. Of course Hermione wouldn’t believe that he did 'nothing', and most likely neither would Ron. 

So he decided to leave it. At least that way, there was less chance of them requesting a full story. 

"Let’s go see who else came back." Hermione muttered, walking ahead. Harry looked to Ron, whom just shrugged. 

"I won, by the way." Ron informed him as they started walking. 

"Congratulations, you won against Hermione, whose never played a Quidditch match in her life." 

Ron punched his arm in annoyance.

  

* * *

 

Neville hugged Harry tightly, after having already hugged Harry’s two friends. Just as Harry thought he might lose consciousness, Neville released him from his grasp.

"I’m so glad you guys came back! I thought it was just gonna be me and Luna- Not that there’s anything wrong with that, Luna." Neville stated, quickly apologising halfway through. With a smile, Luna said that it was fine and that she was thinking likewise. 

The group were headed to the Great Hall for lunch after having met on the staircase to the Gryffindor dorms. Of course the trio wouldn't have been able to have gotten in, not knowing the password, but Hermione’s idea was to see who they’d run into on the way there - and it’d worked (similar to most of her plans).

Neville had been on his way down to the hall, then as they'd continued on their way, they ran into Luna, her head deep in the Quibbler. 

Just like she had the Sorting Hat, McGonagall had altered the way the houses ate. They were allowed to sit wherever they liked, meaning Luna would be able to join them at the Gryffindor table, and if they wanted, they could join her at Ravenclaw. 

Or, as to what had just happened, Draco could also join them. 

A few moments after the group had settled at the Gryffindor table, the tall blond had taken a seat beside Hermione and opposite Harry. 

All five of them looked at him in surprise. Neville and Luna not expecting him to willingly be within a few feet of the trio and the trio not expecting him to go back on his request of them leaving him alone. 

"Just pretend I'm not here." He muttered. His left eye had the beginnings of a bad bruise and his lower lip was cut. He was also holding his left arm protectively. 

"Do you have a black eye?" Hermione questioned, worry in her voice. She leant forward to look at his face, but he stubbornly turned away from her.

 "No." He replied curtly. 

"Draco, what happened?" Hermione asked, placing her hand on his left shoulder. He hissed in pain, turning his body to remove her hand. 

"Nothing happened." He was clearly lying through his teeth. He was unfocused, his eyes darting over the Great Hall. "Didn't I say to pretend I wasn't here?" He asked in return, still not looking at anyone in the group. 

Harry watched where his eyes were roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone at the Ravenclaw table... Once he seemed satisfied with how the table looked, he relaxed a little. His posture softened a little and his eyes their momentum in darting. 

Seeing as Hermione had given up on questioning Draco, and instead involved herself in the story of Neville's summer, and no one else seemed as concerned - Harry decided to try his luck and finding out why the blond was so bruised. 

"Did something happen with a Ravenclaw?" Harry asked quietly, leaning forward to further reduce the chances of eavesdroppers. 

"Nothing happened, Har- Potter." Draco retorted, stumbling a little on his name. 

"You can call me Harry if you'd like. I mean, I called you Draco." 

"When?" 

"Up on the-... You know what, never mind." Harry decided revisiting the conversation on the hill, or the actions that came before it, probably wasn't the best way to get Draco to tell him what'd happened. Besides, Draco seemed to have forgotten what he’d said about Harry leaving him alone. "Point: Harry's fine." 

"I suppose he is, isn't he?" Draco smirked. Although, his smile quickly diminished when he was reminded of his lip. He continued to mutter to himself about how he thought he'd opened the wound, which he had, and check for blood with his index finger. 

A small amount a blood began to slowly snake toward his chin. 

Trying to ignore what Draco had said, so to keep his face going a deep shade of red, and with a roll of his eyes, Harry pulled out his wand. He cast a spell to heal the cut, and then did the same for the bruised eye. 

"Do you think you could do the same for my arm?" Draco smiled nervously. Why Draco didn't do it himself, Harry had no idea. 

"What's wrong with it?" Harry asked in return. He'd assumed it was sprained by the way it looked intact, but when Hermione touched his shoulder, he seemed to be in quite a bit of pain. 

"No clue," Draco gave a one-shouldered shrug, "but it's definitely broken somewhere in the forearm... I have a feeling somethings wrong with the shoulder too..." He explained, mumbling a little as he thought. 

"You should see Madam Pomfrey." Harry suggested, or ordered. He wasn't willing to try and fix Draco's arm when, firstly, he didn't know what was actually wrong with it and, secondly, he was hardly skilled enough to fix an arm anyway. He could barely fix small breaks in noses, let alone multiple breaks throughout the entirety of a limb. 

 "I most certainly am not going to Madam Pomfrey. She’ll tell Professor McGonagall and then she’ll treat me like I’m even more fragile than she already does." Draco muttered, angrily picking at a small indent in the table. He managed to break off a splinter, and flicked it to the side. Instantly, the table repaired itself, and he tried again.

"She’s worried about you, that’s all." Harry corrected, leaning his elbow on the table.

 "Fortunately, Harry, I’ve dealt with worse than a few Ravenclaw third years." Draco chuckled, mimicking the way Harry was sat, leaning forward also.

"I’m sure that you have." Harry smiled, not really wanting to rub in that Draco had unintentionally told him what’d happened. Though Harry was sure that the injuries Draco had weren’t magic inflicted.

"Listen, I’m sorry about what I said earlier - telling you to leave me be and all… Being friends with you is just a little strange. You do understand, don't you?" Draco apologised. He looked at Harry, his grey eyes large with hope for forgiveness. Well, that was the shape, within the silver, a million unreadable emotions swam. 

"It’s fine, Draco, really." Harry replied. Sitting up fully, Draco offered his slender hand.

"Friends?" He questioned with a small smile. Their first introduction immediately sprung to Harry’s mind. This time around, Draco was obviously older, more kind looking and had a few chips out of his ego. 

"'Course. Just, this time, try not to tell me who I shouldn’t be friends with." Harry shook Draco’s hand, smirking at his own joke. Draco let out a dry, unamused laugh, before folding his arms with a joking scowl.

"Why would I? After all, you can tell the wrong sort for yourself, can’t you?" Draco muttered, concealing his smile with his drink. 

"I like to think I can." Harry nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I have been inconsistent with updates.... Yeah, er, sorry 'bout that guys....  
> Hopefully, y'all'll bear with me and my awful update schedule :)
> 
> Enjoy the update, I'll try update again before Christmas in three years time......
> 
> ~ Jay xx


	6. A Dream To Be Around

Harry had luckily managed to convince Draco to go to the infirmary. As it turned out, his arm was broken in three places, and his shoulder dislocated. So similar to the time he was 'attacked by that evil, oversized bird' (his words), Draco was in a sling for a few weeks. 

 

In that time, he continued to be friends with the trio. He always sat with them in the Great Hall for meals, whether they were sat at the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or sometimes even the Slytherin table. They’d study together as well, which actually turned out quite well, because Draco was _really_ good at Potions, and without the help of the Half-Blood Prince, Harry was struggling.

Thankfully, Harry and Draco had an arrangement, top secret from Hermione of course, where Draco would do Harry’s Potions homework, and Harry would do his DADA homework.

 

During free periods, the four would either sit in the Slytherin common room, or out by the lake with Luna and Neville. It took a small while for Neville to adjust to having Draco around, but after only two reminders on how Draco shouldn’t mention his aunt and uncle Lestrange around Neville, they got on fine.

 

Perhaps a few moments like the one on the Quidditch pitch had since occurred… 

Where Harry and Draco would find themselves gazing at each other, pretending the rest of the room had just disappeared. Every time Draco would break it, so Harry took that he just wasn't interested. Though he couldn't help but feel like they could be something if they tried.

 

"I'm free!" Draco cheered, entering the common room with both arms outstretched, and sling-less. 

 

"Like you didn't love the attention." Ron rolled his eyes. The trio were sat by the fire, previously discussing the multiple incidents over the past few weeks where Draco would show up beaten up or injured in some way. Each time wary of a different house, that week was Gryffindor, and each time refusing to say what'd happened.

 

"Maybe for the first week or so, but then it just got inconvenient." Draco shrugged, lying on the dark leather couch. It was certainly his favourite spot in the common room. 

 

"At least now you can carry your own books." Harry smirked, getting up to perch on the couch arm. All week he’d had to haul not only his own books, but Draco’s as well. Which not only proved inconvenience of weight, but, when they had different classes, timing as well. The past few weeks - Gryffindor had lost a few points to Harry being late. Unfortunately, 'I was carrying books to a class I’m not even in' didn’t pass as a good excuse with most professors. 

 

"Actually, Madam Pomfrey said that I shouldn’t strain it for a few days…" Draco 'subtly' hinted, sitting up to look at Harry directly. 

 

Harry’s expression dropped as he looked at Draco extremely flatly. 

 

In return, Draco pouted, blinking his eyes innocently. 

 

Another thing that’d changed in the past weeks was that, with a few small comments whilst Draco had been getting ready, Harry had managed to convince him to tone down on the hair product. Therefore, making his hair look a lot more natural, and making _him_ a lot harder to say no to.

 

"Fine, I’ll carry your bloody books." Harry muttered with a small sigh. Draco leant back, smiling proudly to himself. Turning to his friends, Harry saw that both Ron and Hermione looked extremely unimpressed. 

 

"What?" He questioned, unsure of why they were looking at him the way they were. The couple glanced at each other, smirking. 

 

"Didn't think we'd need to remind you that you aren't the Malfoy servant, but, here we are I suppose." Ron's smirk cracked into a teasing grin. 

 

"He wishes he were to be so privileged." Draco retorted with a smile. With a role of his eyes, Harry got up from his seat and moved to stand above Draco. His grey eyes flicked up to Harry’s, his brow raised in a way that implied he was waiting for what Harry had to say in argument. 

 

"Do you want me to carry your books or not? Because if you do, you’d better be a lot nicer." Harry stated, his hands going up to his hips in annoyance. The said of Draco’s mouth twitched gleefully at the challenge. 

 

"What are you talking about, Potter? I’m a dream to be around and you know it." He replied, his voice silky smooth with charm. A low laugh emitted from Ron, who clearly didn’t agree with what Draco had said. All it took was a small pout and slight eyebrow raise from Harry, before Draco broke into a laugh. 

 

His tongue darted over his lips, wetting them. He then stood up, facing Harry, perhaps a few millimetres closer than he needed to be. "I suppose it depends on the sort of dreams you have about me, hmm…?" He drawled, so quiet it was nearly to a whisper. He spoke almost a whole octave lower than he normally did, and a husky undertone had found its way into his words. Blood rushed to Harry’s cheeks, and like nothing at all had been said, Draco turned and walked away. 

 

"Where’re you going?" Hermione asked, leaning to look around the couch from her seat on the floor. 

 

"The library. I’ve been thinking of taking up alchemy, and the thought just struck me that there might be a book or two on it here in Hogwarts. No harm in checking whether it’s worth my time, hmm?" Draco explained with a brief smile. With that, he departed the common room.

 

"Harry, what in Merlin’s name did he say to you to get you so red in the face?" Hermione questioned, looking at Harry. In reply, he made a garbled humming sound trying to say he wasn't red in the face and Draco had said nothing. Though he wasn't very convincing…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter I'm afraid, but the scene was just a little too long for me to do two parts like I usually do, so here's one scene in one chapter. :)  
> I know it's a little boring at the moment, but we're getting there folks, so sit tight.  
> ~ Jay xx


	7. In The Infirmary

"Look, Ron, it’s not like _I’m_ the one to blame. Ever heard of not shooting the messenger?" Hermione asked rhetorically, looking very displeased with Ron’s whining. McGonagall had asked to see them, Harry presumed, to talk about how the Slytherin dorms were working out. Ron was rather miffed since he’d rather have been having lunch. 

 

McGonagall was sat behind her desk as she usually was. Similar to the previous visit, she smiled before motioning for them to take a seat. "How have the three of you been?" She begun, taking off her reading spectacles. 

 

"Good, thank you, professor." Harry replied first.

 

"Slytherin isn’t as bad as thought if I’m totally honest." Ron shrugged simply. 

 

"We’ve been getting on well with Draco, if that’s what you’re wondering, professor." Hermione finished. To Harry, he felt like they’d summed up whatever McGonagall was going to ask pretty well. They were ok, the dorms were ok, Draco was ok. All fine and dandy. 

 

"Has he been getting on with the other students as well?" McGonagall asked, gracefully entwining her fingers as she leant her elbows on the desk. There was a small moment of silence where the three considered whether to mention to mysterious wounds Draco would show up with. 

 

"Well," Hermione started, courageously offering to be the one to tell McGonagall that perhaps they hadn’t done magnificently at keeping her bullying worries at rest, "sometimes he comes to the dorm with a few bumps that we think maybe were caused by other students…"

 

McGonagall sighed, looking quite disappointed. She gave a small nod, though to what she was nodding at was a little unclear. "Unfortunately I had suspected as much. I did think it unlikely that after coming out top of his class last year, that a 'potions accident' was the reason for his damaged arm." She explained, the frown remaining on her face. The trio solemnly nodded in agreement at the unlikeliness. Especially since Harry had told his two friends about Draco letting slip the third year Ravenclaws responsibility. "Have you seen him today?" McGonagall asked. 

 

"Yeah, in free period he went off to the library to study or something." Ron answered.

 

"Haven’t seen him since." Harry helpfully supplied the end of the sentence for his friend. McGonagall let out a hum of thought. 

 

"I think perhaps-" She begun, but was cut off by the sound of someone bursting into her office. The trio turned to see Hagrid stood breathlessly in the doorway, he appeared to have ran the whole way there. He began talking motioning multiple times to the door, but he was so out of breath, not a word could be made out. 

 

"Bloody hell Hagrid, take a breather would you?" Ron was as confused as the rest of them to what the problem was which’d merited for Hagrid to run to the Headmistress’ office. Hagrid started over, not extravagantly more understandable, but a few words could be made out. 

Harry heard: 'Hufflepuff', ' 'orrible Slytherin boy', 'cruciatus curse' and 'infirmary'.

 

"Where are they now?" McGonagall asked sternly, standing up. Apparently she heard more than Harry had. 

 

"Just said, they’re with Poppy, aren’t they?" Hagrid motioned to the door yet again. He was beginning to catch his breath. 

McGonagall rushed around the desk, her robes flowing behind her. 

 

"Professor, what’s happened?" Hermione asked, standing up in worry. Harry still hadn’t the slightest clue what was happening, and judging by Ron’s face, he hadn’t figured it out either. So it seemed the trio were entirely clueless.

 

"I’m afraid I haven’t the time to explain. Do hurry, Rubeus." McGonagall vanished through the doors, Hagrid hurriedly following after. 

There was a small confused silence. Hermione remained stood, a rather lost look on her face as her gaze remained on the door. In the meantime, Harry and Ron just looked at each other, exchanging a shrug each. 

 

"How odd." Hermione finally said. 

 

"All I heard was something about vengeance for someones parents and how 'both of them' are now in the infirmary." Ron stated, looking to Hermione to see if she’d figured anything out. 

 

"I heard a mention of Antila Tansy. She’s a Hufflepuff third year I think… That, and something regarding the first-floor corridor." Hermione replied. Harry could practically see the pieces of the broken case being put together in her head. 

 

"If it’s to any use: I caught something about the cruciatus curse and a 'horrible Slytherin boy'." Harry supplied, not sure if he was actually assisting his friend. However, when Hermione’s eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her mouth, he figured something he'd said had slotted into the final place of Hermione’s case puzzle.

 

"Antila Tansy used the cruciatus curse on Draco in the first-floor corridor in vengeance for her parents torture during the war!" Hermione exclaimed, finally figuring it out. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Before Harry knew what he was even doing, he found himself running down the stairs toward the infirmary. He heard Ron and Hermione yelling after him, asking what he was doing, where he was going and whether he’d slow down. He ignored them. 

 

He pushed open the doors, his eyes darting over the beds looking for him. Almost instantly, he spotted the large crowd on the far right side. Madam Pomfrey could be heard asking them to 'give him some space' and yelling about the six visitor limit. He ran over, pushing through the crowd. 

 

"Is he okay?" Harry asked no one in particular. Draco was lying unconscious on the bed, looking paler than usual, his white blond hair spread out on the pillow. 

 

He looked around the group. There were a bunch of third years, one of whom was sat on a chair sobbing. McGonagall and Hagrid were there, along with Neville, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. There were also a few other students whom Harry didn’t recognise.

No one seemed to have heard Harry.

 

"Harry!" Neville acknowledged. Seeing as Harry was stood beside him, it’d taken him a while. 

 

"What happened? Is Draco okay?" Harry questioned, figuring Neville was his best chance at any information. Taking a nervous glance toward the sobbing Hufflepuff, before leaning closer to Harry and lowering his voice, Neville explained that he’d been heading to the library to study with Hannah, when Susan stopped them to talk, and not too far into the conversation they’d heard shouting. Apparently, they’d rounded the corner just in time to see Tansy cast the curse. Neville had sent Susan to get Hagrid, whilst he and Hannah tried to stop Tansy - unfortunately not before Draco passed out with pain. 

 

"Madam Pomfrey told Professor McGonagall he’d wake up within at least an hour, though. If he doesn’t, they’ll send him to St Mungo’s." Neville finished. Harry looked toward McGonagall who was talking to some of the Hufflepuff girls about what’d happened. Hagrid was helping Madam Pomfrey clear some of the students who’d simply gathered out of curiosity. 

 

"Thanks, Neville." Harry mumbled, unable to take his eyes off of Draco. He resembled the Draco from the war, and it broke Harry’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry about the time gap between updates.... Again...  
> We got some angst to keep stuff interesting though! Yay that, amirite? Ahem...
> 
> Please stay tuned, I'll try update more - just, first term's always a little rough to settle in to. However, week before Halloween I've got time off to write, so there'll hopefully be more frequent updates then to look forward to.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me,  
> Jay xx


	8. Marks of Heroism, Marks of Cowardice

It was drawing an hour. 

 

The crowd had dispersed after their interest had died down. McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were the only ones around the bed, besides Harry. McGonagall had collected a few statements and a few memories for the pensieve later on, before coming back. She’d said she’d gotten Neville, Hannah and Susan’s memories, as well as a few of Tansy’s friends. Apparently, she had not wished to take Tansy’s, though she hadn’t said why. She’d held back on Draco’s also, seeing as all it’d be was the scene before hand, then blinding pain from the curse that’d be associated with the memory, which couldn’t be avoided - despite of whomever viewed the memory.

 

Hermione and Ron had gone to class, Hermione had tried to persuade Harry to join them, but he’d argued otherwise. Something in him said he _needed_ to be there when Draco woke up. 

 

"Minerva, it’s three minutes until I have to call St Mungo’s. There’s a law for it, you know." Madam Pomfrey mumbled in attempts to not be heard by Harry. Her face depicted her worry and unease. "A cruciatus curse is a serious thing too. There’s a reason it’s illegal, there’s a reason it’s called an 'unforgivable curse'." She continued. 

 

"Poppy, please calm down. I know very well of the laws that come into this matter, but I-… Perhaps we should speak in your office." McGonagall stopped, glancing at Harry. The two made their way around the curtain and across the infirmary.

 

Unfortunately, Draco was still as close to white as the sheets of the bed. 

 

Madam Pomfrey had sat him up to make him more comfortable, but he still resembled a rag doll which had been cast aside. At one point, Harry had considered removing his shoes for him, but then he’d heard Draco’s voice in his head telling him to keep his hands off of them and that they were more expensive than anything Harry was likely to own in his entire life.

 

Harry looked around, before sliding his hand into Draco’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

His skin was cold to touch, and his long, elegant fingers were lifeless. Taking his hand in both of his own in an attempt to warm them, Harry leant forward.

 

"Draco, i-if you can hear me, I’d really like you to wake up." Harry murmured, his voice soft. "I hate to admit it, but I’ve grown quite attached to you over the past few weeks. Actually, if I’m honest I, er, I’ve grown very attached to you. I mean, I wouldn’t have thought it, but you’re a really great guy, really." He couldn’t help but break into a small grin, his eyes focused on the sheets in front of him. "I really like you, Draco. I-… Yeah. Basically." The blood was burning in his cheeks, despite him talking more to himself than anyone else. At least, that’s what he thought; until, he met silver, tear-filled eyes. 

 

Draco looked absolutely heartbroken and Harry hadn’t a clue why. 

 

"I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were awake." Harry quickly apologised, blushing an even deeper red.

 

He wasn’t aware that he’d still been holding Draco’s hand, until he retracted it, his tears overflowing. Draco shut his eyes tightly turning away from Harry, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. 

 

"Draco, what’s wr-…" Harry started, but was cut off by McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey rushing in. Madam Pomfrey immediately went to give him some pain-soother spells, whilst firing many questions about what he remembered and what he was feeling. 

 

"Harry, I think you’d better go to class." McGonagall’s words sounded more like advice, but her tone implied Harry didn’t exactly have an input. He stood up, stealing a final glance at Draco, before solemnly leaving the infirmary. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until a few minutes past nightfall before Draco returned to the common room. He didn’t talk to anyone, just walked straight past to the dorm. Despite only catching a glimpse of his face, Harry could see his eyes were still red and his cheeks tear-strewn.

 

Harry had simply avoided telling his friends about what’d happened in the infirmary. Besides being extremely embarrassed - Harry was also very confused as to what exactly had happened. Furthermore, it was almost certain that Hermione would try to read to much into it and Ron would try take a dig at Draco somehow. Harry stopped what he was thinking. Was he really slacking off his best friends for Draco Malfoy? 

 

"Harry, I think you should go and talk to him." Hermione suggested quietly. Harry swallowed hard, looking up. 

 

"Yeah, you’ve been getting on best with him." Ron added, nodding in agreement. The thought of facing Draco alone after what’d happened in the infirmary, seemed honestly the most daunting thing at that moment. Nevertheless, Harry took in a deep breath and stood up. 

 

Gryffindor’s are determined, he reminded himself, as he made his way down the stone corridor to their dorm.

Gryffindor’s are chivalrous, he tipped himself, as he stood before the door to the dorm. 

Gryffindor’s are courageous, he told himself, as he planted a gentle knock upon the wood. 

 

"D-Draco?" Harry called, the Gryffindor courage from before escaping him for perhaps a moment. "A-are you in there?" He asked, his courage took a moment longer still. 

 

"Leave me alone, Potter." Draco’s voice came as a bitter sob. He sounded so angry and frustrated, yet so hurt and lost - it was rather pitiful. 

 

"You don’t mean that." Harry stated, leaning closer to the door, trying to determine where Draco was in the room. He sounded as if he were to the left side, in the bathroom. From the incident on the Quidditch pitch, Harry had learnt that when Draco said he wanted to be left alone: he simply didn’t know how else to deal with whatever was going through his head.

 

"Yes I do. I don’t want to talk to you." Draco snapped. He was definitely in the bathroom. Harry pushed open the door. The first thing Harry saw was Draco’s trunk, all packed, placed on his bed, which was opposite the door.  Next, he turned to look in the bathroom. The door was open, allowing Harry to see a shocked looking Draco, whom was holding a knife mere millimetres from the pale skin of his left forearm. 

 

It had been roughly rubbed at beforehand, revealing the scar-like mark and reddening the skin beneath it. 

 

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, though he half knew. Pressing his lips tightly together, Draco turned away in shame, as fresh tears fell down his cheeks.

 

"Can’t mark the skin if there’s no skin to mark…" Draco replied, his voice hushed and broken, similar to an empty whisper. 

 

"You’re insane." Harry stepped forward cautiously. Suddenly, the dorm wasn't feeling like the room it had the past few weeks. It felt cold and distant, like it was out of place and didn’t want Harry to be there. 

 

"I’d have to be to ever think this an honour." Draco dropped the knife to the floor, leaning against the grey stone wall behind him. He ran his hand over his hair as more cries escaped him. 

Harry stepped up the single step, leaning against the wall beside Draco. 

"Leave me alone." Draco mumbled, his gaze fixed on the cold stone floor. Harry opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off. "Leave me alone!" Draco shouted, pushing Harry. He didn’t have much strength, so he only nudged Harry’s balance, making him need to re-foot his stance. 

 

"Draco-…" Harry started. 

 

"Go away!" Draco yelled, throwing Hermione’s toothpaste at him. "I don’t want you here!" 

 

"I know what it’s like, okay?" Harry tried to assure him. He rubbed his wrist a little where the sharp edge of the tube had hit him. 

 

Draco looked at him with almost a face of repulsion. 

 

"You don’t know what it’s like. What it’s like to be constantly reminded of _him_. What it’s like to be marked by _him_." Draco spat, his voice lowered to a sinister hiss. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of what Draco had said. He lifted up the mass of jet black hair that hung on his forehead. 

 

"Really, Draco? I don't know what it’s like? I’ve had this my _entire life_." Harry replied, pointing to the lightning bolt mark. 

 

"That’s not the same and you know it!" Draco was back to shouting. "Everyone thinks yours is a mark of greatness - the mark of a hero. Mine? It’s the mark of a coward. Someone who gave up and sided with the bad guys, because he guessed he didn’t have a choice! It’s the mark of someone evil, someone cruel, someone who thinks people should be treated poorly because of the way they’re born; and it’s never going to go away! So tell me how the fuck you know what it’s like?!" 

 

Harry stood still, stuck for anything to say. 

They both stood there. Simply staring at each other. 

It felt likes hours had slipped by between them. 

 

"I'll tell you again, in case you didn't hear me before: I want to be alone, so I'd appreciate it if you left." Draco snarled. 

 

"No, you don't. You don't want to be alone. I know you don't." Harry responded, stepping toward Draco once again. He reached out and placed his hand on Draco's upper arm. Draco seemed to shrink under his touch, his aggression fading from his face, but Harry didn't withdraw. "Please." He was so tired of Draco pushing him away. Especially when he couldn't see why he did. 

 

He slid his hand down Draco's arm and held Draco's hand in both of his own, similar to as he did in the infirmary. 

 

Draco smiled sadly, shaking his head, as once again, he took back his hand. 

"I can't, Harry." Draco stated, his voice cracking, and sounding as broken as he looked. 

 

"Why? At least tell me that." Harry ordered. With an aura of solemnity and sorrow, Draco offered his left arm to be viewed. 

 

"The saviour of the wizarding world can't love a follower of the man that caused it all." He explained, his grey eyes filled with melancholy. 

Harry was genuinely surprised that that was the only reason Draco was so withdrawn. He was also pained by the fact that Draco labelled himself unloveable simply due to his past and a mark on his arm. 

 

"Fuck you, I can love whoever I want." Harry answered, grabbing Draco by the front of his shirt and pressing his lips against his own. 

Somehow, the kiss made it seem all worth it. Draco's lips were so soft, and moved so perfectly with Harry's. His skin was smooth to touch, and he still smelt so bloody good. 

Harry pulled Draco closer, pressing their bodies tightly together, and his arm resting around Draco's waist. 

 

Draco pulled away first: his face flushed pink. Once again, his silver eyes were filled to the brim with unreadable emotions.

"W-was that ok?" Harry asked, unsure what Draco was thinking. "I haven’t really had much practise…" He admitted. 

 

Draco bit his lip, the corners of his mouth quirking into a shy smile.

"Yes, it was rather brilliant, really…" Draco mumbled, his eyes on the floor. "Just, are you sure you want to do this?" He questioned, looking up, appearing concerned. 

 

"I’ve never been more sure of anything." Harry nodded determinedly. 

 

After that, it took a while for either of them to say anything else. They sort of just stood there in the awkwardness of the fact that they’d just kissed, and that they’d enjoyed it. 

 

Draco took a deep breath inward, straightening his posture. 

"If you want to, you could kiss me again." He stated, the tiniest smirk teasing his lips. 

 

"Alright." Harry grinned. He pulled Draco close to him, similar to before, and made their mouths meet for the second time.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a pretty consecutive update if I do say so myself.
> 
> To the real notes:
> 
> 1\. I apologise if Harry and Draco become OOC, I watched Kill Your Darlings and holy crap that film was beautiful. If you haven't seen it: PLEASE DO. But otherwise, sorry if Harry and Draco were too much like Allen and Lucien - I'm really easily influenced. 
> 
> 2\. Finally they're together!! But, man, did they have to go some emotional stuff to get there. Never the matter.
> 
> 3\. Thank you all for reading, reviewing and leaving kudos, it's really appreciated and makes my day when you do. 
> 
> ~ Jay xx


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